Facade
by Crimson.Haven
Summary: What does a young stable boy have to do with Vicomte de Chagny? And why did this boy interest Erik so much? And just who truly is Leroy?
1. A Boy Named Leroy

"Leroy! You get back here, young man." An elderly woman spoke and she was huffing. Both her hands were balled and situated upon her hips, her face red with fury. A young man, around the age of seventeen, jovially smiled up at her. She let out a sigh and helped the young man who had fallen unto the cement pavement when her order was declared. "Such a clumsy child, now look! You've soiled your clothes." The young boy, Leroy, merely brushed the dirt off his white cotton shirt. His worn gray hat tucked some messy strands of hair from his face. He had such a feminine face, similar to that of Vicomte de Chagny. He was a loving and cheerful child but he never spoke.

"Come on now dear boy, we need to wash you." Leroy let out a fit of soundless laughter. Madame Brenda Joffrey had kept the young boy under her wing when she first found him shivering behind the dark alley when she was walking home. She took pity of the young child, a youth of only sixteen, curled against the wall trying to brace himself of the cold. He had clothed him and given him shelter. As she did this, he took a job as a stable boy to help his benefactor in their expenses.

Leroy, as Mme. Joffrey had named him, had an average height, quite as tall as most teenage girls but considerably petite to men of his age. He had long straight chestnut brown hair that he tucks under his cap, trying not to let them frame his face for he would be mistaken as a woman. He had almond-shaped cerulean blue eyes that were expressive and bright. His skin was rather pale and his frame was lean rather than a muscular one. Despite that, he seemed like perfection but he didn't have a voice. He was mute and Mme. Joffrey had believed that he was a child who was rejected and made to do labor for his imperfection.

After the young man had taken his share of the bath, he changed himself into casual clothes that he could wear at night, loose and comfortable. Despite being a cheerful boy, he was quite apprehensive when he would have to bathe in the rivers or have Mme. Joffrey dress him. Such a shy child. He was always avoiding attention to be drawn upon him. He was quite a loner to the eyes of other people but he was not aloof and he would never let others suffer. He had such a kind big heart that he shared each little piece with others.

He was quite famous with his mentor, Monsieur Gawin, who always took pride of Leroy when the boy was taking care of his horses. He had taught the child how to ride horses when they had some spare time. Leroy, would smile an appreciating smile, a gesture of thanks to the older man. He had such a small and fragile frame but he held strength and those close to him would feel proud of anything he did.

Leroy was such a mysterious child that nobody knew of his past but only the fact that he was a loving and cheerful mute of a child. That was until the youth had learned of the famous Opera within the confines of France that most of his neighbors had found something more about this young man.


	2. The New Leaf

It had been a good two weeks ever since Christine's departure from the Opera. Erik, as the phantom is fondly called, had returned to his home underneath the Opera. His household was topsy-turvy, everything was in disarray. The rooms within the home were raided and anything precious was taken. He ran to where his room was but the four sided area was untouched, even the coffin was not open. People were quite superstitious. His organ had been battered. Some of the ivory keys were missing and the papers were he wrote his compositions were littered along the floor. They were dirty with the sole marks of those who had raided his home. Fortunately, nobody dared to venture into his torture chamber, as the door was locked and they had no key to open the sturdy door.

He sat himself upon a chair that was thrown aside; he dug his face unto his palms and let the gesture calm him down. Rage surged inside him. How dare they roam his house?! He quickly remembered Ayesha and went in search for the feline but found it nowhere in sight. He balled his hands into tight fists. The world was so unjust to him. His gaze settled unto the mask he had carelessly strewn away in escape. It lay there on the floor, ignored and heavy with dust.

He bent down and picked it up, brushing the dirt upon the surface. Satisfied enough, he let the foreign material be placed over his face. He felt himself as one invincible being once again. Confidence pumped within his face. His hand trailed to the fragments of the mirrors he had shattered, they reflected his face. A man who had such dark mane and dark eyes that held knowledge and sorrow, they clung to his character. The very distinct object of a mask was poised above the skin on the right portion of his face and he touched it, alienated by its soothing purpose. It had been quite a while since he had returned.

He tapped his shoe unto the floorboards, looking for something and finally his ears befall a strong sound. It indicated the floorboard was hollow. He went around his home and looked for a tool to lift the piece of wood up and he merely found a small knife but he didn't complain. He dug the weapon unto the side of the wood and put his strength into lifting the floorboards. His efforts were not in vain and the plank rose bringing along the nails that situated the wood onto the floor. He wrenched the wooden piece out of his view and threw it elsewhere, his gaze unmoving and locked unto a small wooden box, it looked like a small version of a treasure box. He drew the box out, despite coughing at the occasional dust that floated upwards. He wiped the padlock and stabbed the hole with the knife, trying to unlock it. A click and he knew he had succeeded. He took the padlock off the chest and opened it. There were jewels, precious stones and the collar he had taken with him when he escaped Persia.

With these materials, he knew he could start out once again. He scrutinized his home. It needed some repairs if he intended to stay in the place. He closed the chest and held it within the crook of his elbow, his hands at the base of the wooden chest. If he wanted to forget about Christine and how he had hurt her, he needed to start anew. And he knew this was only the start of the Phantom's turning into a new leaf. How hard would life be from now on? The thought perturbed him and he could do nothing but think of the events that might benefit him in the future, hoping that these chances his mind had incurred would come to reality. But for now, he settled to making his home a home again.


	3. Raoul's resemblence

It was a bright and sunny afternoon of spring, the birds sang to the silent melody of May's blooming flowers. Leroy had been sent on an errand to buy some bread for their meals and he did so. He had noticed a group of people had gathered upon the entrance of the Opera. Wanting to quench his curiosity, he maneuvered himself within the crowds of people. Within the center of the crowd was charcoal black carriage with a familiar coat of arms imprinted upon the carriage doors.

The chauffeur of the carriage pulled the knob, opening the door of the carriage revealing a beautiful young woman in an elegant cream brocade gown. Her long brown hair tumbling upon her shoulders, waves of it. Her face was angelic and beautiful; her lips curved up, greeting everyone with a smile. She stepped down the carriage with the aid of a man who had long hair kept by a leather thong at the nape of his neck. He had a feminine hint in his facial features and he wore quite elegant clothing.

Suddenly a child's voice cried out, "The Vicomte looks like Leroy!" It was followed by a shush of the mother. Clearly this had brought the interest of the Vicomte, "Leroy, you say?" He inquired the woman who was the mother's child. "Yes, a young boy of seventeen." The woman responded. The crowds' heads drew upon their neighbors to murmur amongst one another. Leroy turned to the person beside him.

Blasted. It was Geppetto, the local puppeteer of whom he was close to. The old man looked at the youth, the young boy's face paled. "Why Leroy! If it isn't you?!" The ancient spoke, his voice scrapped the ears of the child. The crowd separated themselves upon the boy and their gazes slashed at him. Raoul looked at the identified boy. Their gazes met and something ticked in Raoul's mind. "Leroy. Come here, young man." Leroy was frozen in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock and it paralyzed him. He couldn't even turn his gaze away from the Vicomte.

Christine was at her husband's side at once, clearly seeing the shock of the young boy who looked so helpless that he was just a passerby. "Raoul." She pleaded and her husband cast his gaze upon her worried expression. "Everything is fine, dear." When he resumed his gaze to the child, the youth was gone. Leroy had fled but Raoul lost more than the presence of the child but the importance of the youth's existence. "He looked familiar, didn't he?" Raoul spoke, in a soft murmur to Christine as they resumed to the steps of the Opera. "Yes, he looked so familiar. He had a resemblance with you." Raoul's brows furrowed and he took Christine's hand within his, "Yes, he _certainly_ did."

Christine pondered as to who else she had met during her childhood that had a close resemblance to Raoul but found none. "Raoul, who is he if it makes you so uneasy?" Raoul drew his troubled gaze upon her face, "He is-"


	4. Death

"Leroy! You're as pale as a sheet! What happened son?" Mme. Joffrey scooped Leroy's pale cheeks and felt the clamminess of his skin. He was short of breath but the breadbasket was tucked within his arm, afraid of losing the object he had bought. He placed the woven basket into his guardian's hands and rushed to his room. Upon his descent he had brought his trusty flute, a long wooden instrument and dashed out. Mme. Joffrey could only frown at his sudden actions and knew that he would be listening to siren who sings along the riverbanks to ease his emotions.

Leroy drew his flute to his soft pink lips, his fingers hovering upon the holes of the instrument. Carefully, he drew a beautiful melody, enchanting and calming as his gaze never left the streaming blue current of the river. His gaze then lifted to the other side of the riverbank it was a few ways off to get there and walking through the current was life-threatening itself. His gaze went to the shades but his eyes came upon a flicker of clothes but there was no one there. Then he heard movement upon the water and his gaze went down to the flowing body. His hand cupped a handful and he sprinkled it upon his face as a soothing melody entered his ears:

_Young youth, who seeks his happiness_

_Cry down your tears of sadness,_

_Let the river's flow bring them to sea,_

_A place too far for you to be._

_Forget the pain and listen to the river's whispers,_

_Unending in its tears,_

_Waiting for the children's gentle touch,_

_A feeling it has missed so much._

He sighed contented to the gentle and feminine voice of the river siren with whom he had befriended. He took a stone and tossed it upwards before catching it again, repeating this. He drew his hat down and let his straight long hair cascade upon his shoulders, he took his parcel of a bag out which contained clothing. He occasionally bathed here; it was his secret haven since most people avoided it. It was near the aqueducts of the Opera and most people were superstitious and everyone avoided it, fearing the spirit of the Phantom will shown them upon entering the area.

Leroy had befriended the Phantom's siren, an entity he has never seen but had the voice of sweet masculinity, beautiful but held sorrow in them. Meanwhile, the river siren had such a sorrowful feminine voice that sang in cool afternoons and bright nights where the moon was full and it bathe the river with its silver moonlight. It was the entity that calmed and brought refuge to the youth's troubled mind.

The young boy dove into the water, drenching his rather filthy clothes as he had worked in the stables early morning. The laughter of the siren filled his ears and he smiled and created great splashes of water. The laughter grew a volume higher and he dove under the river, he stayed where the current wasn't so strong. His feet kicked the water and he propelled himself trying to outlast the river's mighty currents. His arms rather lean than muscular dipped and rose along the water's flow; unaware that a pair of stoic eyes had never left his small frame.

The wind joined within the race and Leroy had to swim back to the banks, his clothes drenched. His cream cotton shirt hung loosely against his body and he made sure no one was around. He unbuttoned the lower buttons, revealing a flat stomach and he drew his sleeves unto his elbows, showing his rather thin arms. He sat himself against the oak's rough bark as the cool wind dried him. His eyes were fluttering close as the voice of the Phantom's siren sung him to sleep.

It was the cool evening breeze that woke the youth up and he stirred, his head was propped against something soft but stiff and warm at the same time. He shifted to his side and he felt something clamp along his shoulder and ceased him. He opened his eyes a bit and gazed up at the person but his vision was blurry and sleep drugged him still. His hands lifted and he felt the figure that supported him shifted his body. His hand found something smooth and solid; his fingers touch what felt like warm skin before sleep conquered his senses again.

He awoke this time to the rather demanding shaking done to his body and he shot his eyes open. His first emotion was followed thereafter by shock and then fear. For the person in front of him was none other than Vicomte de Chagny with some officers behind him bringing lanterns to rid the darkness of the night. "Don't worry; I've come to bring you back home." Raoul spoke in a gentle tone but Leroy's eyes darted to the officers' weapons, revolvers kept within their reach if there was a need. Raoul stretched out his hand for Leroy but he only moved back away from the man wanting to help him. He gazed at his precious flute and drew the instrument into the cradle of his arms. "It's all right they won't harm you." Raoul reassured but cold sweat trickled down his brow and Leroy found no other refuge but the river.

Raoul found Leroy's gaze upon the river and his hand ceased the younger man's forearm, "No! You'll die in those currents." But Leroy only found refuge in the strong flow of the water and he wished he could hear the siren's sweet and soothing voice once again but he knew he couldn't hear it with all these people around him. He looked back at Raoul, their gazes met and Raoul's grip tightened. Leroy's color drained and he was once again pale and he looked so fragile as if any moment he would shatter into tiny little pieces. Raoul's grip loosened a bit and Leroy took this chance. He wrenched his forearm from the Vicomte's unknowing grip and dove into the river's mighty flow. He clutched his precious flute against his chest, never wanting to be separated from the musical instrument. The water pushed him down, the current was stronger now since the night winds aided their flow and Leroy tried to grasp his breath. Along the land, the distinct light from the officer's lanterns were quite distant from where he was. The water battered his body and he hit some rocks that had situated themselves against the river's mighty flow. He lost his breath but the river carried his beaten body farther down. Like the siren's song;

_Let the river's flow bring them to sea…_

And the youth was engulfed by darkness as he was robbed of his breath and he sunk deeper into the dark rapids, his hand loosening his grip upon his flute before cold darkness overtook his senses and he thought of never having the chance to awaken once again. Death….his only retribution to his old life.


	5. In Darkness

He felt cold damp earth beneath his fingers. Everywhere was darkness. He felt pain but was there pain in heaven and why was it so dark? Panic rose in him. Was this the dark depths of hell? What had he done wrong but escape a gruesome and unfair past? He never did steal nor did he intend to lie. He was always fair and loved even his enemies but he always feared. He was such a fearful child. He tried to open his eyelids but they refused to do what he wanted, heavy and reluctant they were. He flexed his fingers, feeling pain rush along his nerves and after some time his eye finally budged and he was met by darkness. Cold darkness and he shivered as there was nothing to warm him. He propped himself along his forearms but pain seized his body and he fell unto the floor with a grimace. He clutched his abdomen, feeling all the pain pool itself on that single area.

He never noticed as to when he lost consciousness but when he awakened once again, a fire was nestled nearby and a cloth was draped over him. He gazed at his side but there was no one around and he sighed slumped onto the ground. Darkness still surrounded him but there was a light now and he calmed down a bit. All at once he sat up, he clutched his chest as pain rushed on that area but he squinted against the pain and opened his palms. Empty. He touched his shirt and his pants. Empty. He looked at the damp soil beside him but they were bare of anything he was looking for. He dug his face unto his palms as he mulled over the loss of his prized object. His tears rolled down his dirt stained cheek and his crying was as silent as his surroundings.

His sobs were ceased and he studied the area he had washed up on. Instead of finding the continuation of the river, his eyes meet the calm and dark waters of a lake. There was a house not so far from where he was laid in and he knew at once that the person who had taken him must be in the confines of their home. Leroy drew the cloth up to his neck as he laid himself, trying to warm himself even more. He did not know as to what time it was since everything that surrounded him was darkness. He rubbed his temples and concentrated as to what had happened the previous night. Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. What did he possibly want with a common stable boy? Leroy's brows drew together and he let out a breath. He closed them but opened them once again as a sweet melodic voice came upon his ears. It was the voice of the Phantom's siren. His deep tenor voice wrung melody into the heavy silence. It calmed his tense nerves and he settled back upon the damp ground. Contented to hear the voice that which lulls him to his sleep and keeps his emotions at bay, he let his body into the sumptuous embrace of sleep.

_"Elena's here!" It was a young boy's cheerful voice that brought him to his senses. His eyes found a familiar face but couldn't quite discern it as to whom. Beside the child was a familiar little girl as well; bright and happy was her everyday emotion despite the poverty of her life. At the doorway was the governess, an elderly woman who they had loved for her loving and caring ways of taking care of the children. He could hear laughter, a young girl's laughter but it didn't come from the young girl he saw but elsewhere. His eyes search frantically for the origin of the voice but they died down as soon as they fell upon his ears. Who owned the soft and childish laughter? _

_"Are you feeling okay?" It was the young boy who spoke. The governess had closed the door behind her and was walking towards the gathered children. "Now you two, it is quite evident that your friend needs some bed rest." The governess ushered the two children out if the room. "Take care of yourself. We'll come by and visit later-"_

Leroy opened his eyes and he sat up. His body was not as sore as it was during his previous awakenings. He ran his fingers through his dirty and messy hair. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head and when he opened them once again, he was face to face with a man.


	6. Scorching Torture

Leroy sat once again frozen. He seemed to think to have rotten luck lately and it brought him great misfortune. This man before him had speculative eyes that studied every move he made. He felt cold sweat trickle down his nape. The stranger took hold of both his wrists and he never tore his gaze from Leroy's. "Tell me good sir, who are you?" Leroy was afraid and he gulped and tried to answer, forgetting the fact that he was mute. The man, obviously enraged by his speechlessness, took hold of the younger male's neck, "Why do you not answer me?!" Leroy's eyes were as wide as saucers and his throat became dry. The man shook his small frame and it was the last straw that Leroy wanted leading the youth to pass out.

Heat. Scorching hot and feverish. He wanted none of it. It was as if he had been shipped to another country. There were trees but they hardly gave shade from the blazing sun. The sun was merciless, it never cease in growing the area's temperature. Young Leroy wanted escape from this desert-like place. He wanted the comfort of the moist and silent air of the lake. He wanted water to dribble down his parched throat. He had seen images of water but he knew these were just illusions created by the human mind. He sought shades for comfort from the sunlight. There was nothing that he could even use to cool his head. He had awoken in this hot oven a few moments ago and knew that he would die in this wretched place. He wanted to shout but every time he wanted to do such, his hand would grasp to his throat and it reminded him the absence of his voice.

Erik had watched the boy behind the glass of his torture chamber. He wanted to hear that voice again. Wanted to her the voice of simple purity of this boy's siren; the sorrow that she sings on cool afternoons and bright nights. Yes, he had heard her. He had saved this child's life when he had escaped from Raoul de Chagny's encounter. He balled his fist and he unintentionally gritted his death. Christine. The name still hung high within his thoughts. The memory of her body against his embrace, her voice when she sung her soul to him and her face when she had left him for the Vicomte; aghast, he could not erase the memories from his mind. He had suffered greatly but he did not follow her anymore for he could not have her for himself, her body might succumb to his but her heart was not for him. He was broken from his train of thought when the voice he sought of strung notes into the silence and he dashed out to seek the fair siren of this young dying lad.

Leroy could hardly move from where he laid, his life force slipping past his limp fingers and he could do no more than stare out at the distance. His eyes glazed by the torturous illusions the man had made. He closed his eyes, a sign total surrender. He could take no more of this torture and he wished nothing more than to end his suffering. He found a thick rope with the end already a noose. He could hang himself but he was too tired and he settled to be scorched by this heat instead. He closed his eyes and no sooner the sound of his siren's voice came upon his ears. His dry lips following the words the voice sang:

_Deep in this threshold, we succumb to death,_

_You wait for the last breath,_

_And each time you open your eyes,_

_Asking yourself if you truly will die._

_Young child, unwanted,_

_This painful event you have besotted, _

_What future awaits your disappearance here?_

_You're almost dead, my dear…_

Leroy couldn't shake off the last phrase that was sung. _You're almost dead, my dear…_He couldn't shake off the feeling of death. Just then the light was gone and the heat was slowly fading but young Leroy stayed where he was. His strength draining and a dark silhouette drew nearer towards him from a lighted entryway.


	7. An Imperfect de Chagny

Leroy's shock could not be masked as he had openly showed his emotions to the same man who had wanted to kill him in the painful and the hot chamber of illusions. The older man had the distinct mask that he had seen in his dreams, white but what took his attention were this man's eyes. They were like liquid gold with emotions raging in them. They burned with anger, hatred and sorrow which held unto the figure of knowledge. This man had an intangible knowledge that only knew of and for the boy to discover. Leroy looked down unto the shiny wooden floorboards which he guessed were made of Redwood. This man held superiority, power and an air of confidence. Just who was he and why did he have this strange unblinking gaze settled on his small body.

Erik couldn't lift his gaze from the boy. He looked so fragile, small and delicate for a seventeen year old male. He was trembling, clearly the effects of his torture but he didn't do anything to cease the uneasy movement of this boy's movement but it only fueled it as he came nearer to the boy. He was quite a beautiful male if ever there was a chance to call a man beautiful. He shook his thoughts; he did not have any use for random thoughts. He scrutinized the young lad. He had long chestnut brown hair which was messy and it stood out in certain areas. His eyes were almond-shape and a soft cobalt blue in color. His skin was rather pale for a male and his lips were pink and full which stood out from his pale complexion. He wore such very loose clothes that it hid his ridiculously small frame. His hair was framing his face, giving him a rather feminine look and at first Erik had thought that the youth was a woman. He had bruises as to when he hit the rocks that he came across on when he went along the river's flow. His dirty white slacks clung to his legs; framing his calf while his thighs were hidden beneath a pair of maple brown shorts that reached is knees. He had long discarded the maple brown jacket that he had worn earlier.

His hand shot up and took hold of Leroy's chin; he turned the young boy's face to the left then to the right, analyzing the boy's face. Leroy had a resemblance to Raoul de Chagny but the boy didn't have such a strong jaw but he had high cheekbones. His eyes were what took his breath away. Beautiful blue eyes that expressed more emotion that his face. He mentally shook his thoughts away. Beautiful? Who would associate such a word to a man? It was so absurd. How did his mind create such thoughts? He released the boys chin and the lad merely glared at him. _What a change of heart._ He mused in his thoughts. A minute ago, this boy was trembling in fear of him but now he was daring a competition of glaring. He let out a mirthless laugh which surprised Leroy.

Leroy found the man quite intimidating but he held out a stubborn façade that kept the pooling fear within him hidden. He looked around the room where the man had brought him. A single bed was situated not far from him with plain white linen covers. A full length mirror and a tall Mahogany cabinet which he thought was where this man's clothes were kept. A desk was at one side with a small collection of books lined within the tabletop. His eyes once again lifted to the tall figure of the man. "Who are you, boy?" Erik spoke; his masculine voice entrancing and melodic to Leroy's ears. Quickly, the young boy pointed to his throat. Erik lifted his elegant brow, inquisitive of the boy's gestures. Leroy, seeing the confuse look upon the man, opened his mouth and mouthed words.

_Mute_. The word went tumbling into Erik's thoughts. A smirk curved the corners of his mouth, giving a rather evil aura to the boy but Leroy didn't notice. He was mesmerized by the man's smirk, his strong lips curved at the side. An imperfect de Chagny. How the thought amused him. He glazed his golden orbs upon the lad and Leroy visibly flinched at the sudden intense of his gaze. Leroy's had brushed against the rugged texture of the rug beneath the pads of his fingers. He could not escape the leering gaze of the man.

"It seems your mute." Leroy mentally snorted but he was contented in a curt nod, hoping he could come into terms with the man's good side. After all, if this man had no kindness he would have probably left the youth to float down to the sea and be battered to death by the strong current. Erik look around the room, if this boy could not talk, he needed something to aid him as to how the boy will answer. Finally his eyes settled upon scrolls of parchment and a quill that he had left upon the desk. Beside the quill was a bottle of charcoal black ink and at the far corner, a fountain pen was untouched. He made his way to the desk.

Ironic. Leroy watched the man walked to the desk and take a piece of rolled parchment and the fountain pen. He moved with grace, as if he glided upon the earth and not stepped upon it. He shook his head, why would he have such thoughts? Truly the man had a handsome face by which he honestly could stare at but the white material of a mask obscured the total image of his face. He had an enchanting voice that bewitched those who listened to it. He was tall, he overlook Leroy's small stature and had such broad shoulders. He was dressed quite formally, his black coat with tails while his legs were hidden by the black fabric of his slacks and his neck ornate with the white high collar of his inner robes. It made Leroy feel like a common street urchin his eyes would trail upon each and everyday.

Erik handed the boy the roll of parchment and the fountain pen, "What is your name?" The young boy went to the nearest wall, using it as a bottom so he could write better unto the thin piece of paper. After looking at his writing, he handed the paper to the older man. "Leroy." He read aloud while his eyes were upon Leroy's nodding head. Erik was surprised. This young boy had such a fine handwriting, such cursive that one would expect from young children who were brought up by governesses and taught in finishing schools. He cast a glance at the boy. He did not seem to be a person who looked rich but rather gave the feeling that he was a mere common boy that people pass by with along the streets. He had casual clothes that a young boy of an average family would have but his stature was quite short for a young man of seventeen. He rolled the parchment and kept it inside his pocket. He intended to keep the young man under his wing for a while.


	8. Laughter

Leroy's fingers brushed upon the volumes of various books kept by a heavy Oak bookcase. His blue eyes scanned the titles as his fingers guided him. He was not dumb despite being mute. He had a great passion reading books but they were quite limited. No one knew who he truly was or where he truly came from. His fingers met worn leather and his eyes widened. It was untitled which only brought him more curious of what it contained. He looked around, Erik wasn't within the room. Quickly the youth took possession of the book and hastily opened it. His eyes met with shock and he look around wildly and he hastily placed the leather-bound book back unto where he took it.

-.-.-

Erik ran his hands through his hair as his eyes were fixed upon his broken organ. He knew he needed a new one since the damage down to this instrument was beyond repair. He looked at the door to his library. Leroy had stepped inside the room not long ago.

Earlier that day, he had saved the young boy from his death within the torture chamber. He had learned of his name was 'Leroy' and he himself had frankly introduced himself as Erik, leaving his identity as the Opera Ghost in the past. Despite his deep anger for the French population, he felt a certain pity for the boy. Even if the boy had quite a beautiful face; he shook his head. There it was again, he could never seem to say that this boy was handsome instead he found the youth beautiful in a way that the word suited the child itself. The boy was imperfect, he never had a voice. Never will he have such.

Suddenly it occurred to Erik, how did his parents know if he was alive? Didn't children cry after birth? His gaze went to the wooden door that served as the only barrier to the youth's small frame. He had let the boy use the room where he had once kept for Christine but he dared not to move things from where they were. Despite the short amount of time the young woman had stayed in his home, he could still remember how made the room her own. It was so fresh and vivid; he could remember every detail like it happened the day before.

His thoughts shifted once again to Leroy. Despite the plain looking attire he wore and the absence of his speech, Erik could not shake off the feeling that this boy was hiding something from him, not only him but to everyone this boy had met. He could not tear off the thoughts from his mind. It kept on coming like a gushing river. Leroy had a more feminine look than the Vicomte himself. He shook the remaining thoughts away and took a random book from the piles of books he had gathered which had been strewn carelessly unto the floor. He cocked an elegant brow as he read the title of the book he took, "Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare." He mused, sometimes, certain events happen for a reason and he could not keep himself from stopping to glance at the door once again before his golden eyes roved the text of Shakespeare's play.

-.-.-.-.-

Leroy wiped a bead of sweat as it trailed down his cheeks. His fingers were cold to his skin. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He looked at his hands, they were so pale and they kept on trembling. He tried to assure himself with good thoughts and good possibilities but they didn't help. He grabbed a book from another bookshelf and sat down upon the beech table that was a good distance away from the shelves.

He massaged his temples and tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He loosened the topmost button of the loose white cotton shirt that Erik had lent him. It hung from his shoulders; it hid the small upper frame of the young man. Despite the open button, it only showed the top portion of the boy's chest. Leroy admitted that he was quite fair-skinned than most boys of his age. He could even be considered pale, seeing his skin was rather translucent in the pale lighting and the dark compared to Erik's rather tan skin tone. He missed the feeling of his hat that kept his hair in place. He wanted to tear a piece of the cotton shirt but he knew it was not his and it would only infuriate Erik. He ran his hand threw his hair; it seemed to soothe him a bit. He looked down at the book he took and seemed surprised at the title itself. It was 'Utopia' by Sir Thomas More. He flipped the pages until his gaze reached the heading of the first chapter. He wasted no time in delving his mind into the contents of the book, interested in what it spoke. He had always dreamed of a perfect community where he could be free not that he was a prisoner in Mme. Joffrey's home but he wanted another senses of freedom. A freedom he knew could never have in his life.

-.-.-.-

Erik was amused to the contents of Shakespeare's comedy. He had read this piece of literature a little back and he could not remember most of the events which made him more interested of the events. He looked at the grandfather clock just opposite as to where he was. It was already five in the afternoon and he looked at the page once again before he settled the book upon the small table in front of him to prepare himself and his guest dinner.

Before he set himself towards the kitchen, he stopped in front of the door that leads inside the library. Curious, he silently twisted the golden piece of metal and pushed the door gently making as less sound as possible. His eyes found the small frame of Leroy bent over a thick book. He was reading profusely despite the poor candle light. He could not suppress a smile and he dismissed himself from peeking and made his way to the kitchen. He left the door slightly ajar to let the smell of dinner distract the young man from reading.

-.-.-.-.-

Leroy smelled the delicious aroma of food and he turned his head to the door. He was surprised to see it slightly open. He heard the growl of his stomach and a red tint of a blush rose to his pale cheeks. He placed the book on the table and tried to walk quietly, he drew the door within the grasp of both his hands and peek outside. His eyes surveyed the outer room, no one was around and silence hung heavily in the air. He could see clearly since the once small stubs of candles earlier were now replaced with new bright and long candlesticks.

"It's not good for children to snoop." He heard Eric's rich tenor voice and he could not help but be entranced by the voice of the older male. The older man suddenly came into view and the boy, out of shock, fell onto the floor with a loud thud. The boy rubbed his chin, showing that most of the pain originated from that area. Erik could not stop what he did next. He erupted into a peel of laughter. He could not remember the sound nor have a memory that he had heard his share of his own laughter. He looked at the boy expecting to see a weird expression but he saw his shoulders moving and his face broke in a wide grin. He was laughing silently. Despite his sudden show of emotion, he felt he could trust the boy who was imperfect like him. "Now lad, stop snooping and let's eat dinner." He spoke once he had cleared his throat. Leroy nodded and stood up but not before casting a last glance unto the door that led to the library. Unbeknownst, his gaze was not left hidden to Erik and the older man looked at the door with confusion etched upon his face.

**Author's Notes: Yeah I'm quite lazy in writing the 'author's notes' part but anyways. Message me if you're confuse on something about the story and I would love certain ideas if you can give me some.**

Also, sometime soon it will take me a while to update since I'll be busy with college stuff which will start on June but for now I'll try to please you as much as I can and update as fast as I could. Thank you very much for reading. :D  



	9. Rage

Erik glanced down at his platter of food; it had some peas and a half-eaten steak. He poked the remaining peas with his fork, he was full but it surprised him as to how little he had eaten. Although his mask made his eating difficult, he made a point to eat a decent meal at least once a day. His golden gaze made its way to Leroy; the boy hardly even touched his food while his fork hovered above it. "Doesn't suit your taste?" Leroy shot his head up and shook his head wildly. Erik merely arched his brow, he had heard of the boy's stomach but he wondered what bothered the boy that Leroy could not even eat his food. If Leroy had a voice, what would it sound like? He kept on imagining the boy had a feminine voice which contradicted to his gender.

He propped his chin over his fist as he settled his elbow on the table, his eyes speculative and not once leaving the boy's face. Leroy had finally helped himself into Erik's cooking. 'Delicious!' Leroy thought and he took mouthfuls of his share. Erik seemed amused at the boy as he ate. Each day he could not comprehend as to how this young boy amuses him so much that he makes the pain of his loss a bit more bearable. The young boy was so intriguing that it only made it more a mystery was the absence of the boy's voice. He felt he had a bond with the boy who suffered like him. Someone who could never have a chance to speak what he wanted, to defend who he was and to be mock because he was imperfect; he knew he could trust the boy. He wondered how this effeminate young man passed the standards of a local boy. Erik remembered Leroy's handwriting; it was cursive for God's sake. He looked over at the boy once again and his eyes met innocent blue orbs and an empty porcelain platter. He dismissed the thoughts for another night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Leroy could no please his appetite since his thoughts were swarming about the book. No, better yet the diary that was placed in the library; it wasn't so conspicuous since it was place at the furthermost part of the last bookshelf. It did not bring so much attention but most people had praised Leroy for being very observant. He could not forget how the texture of the leather felt beneath his fingertips, worn but still sturdy enough to do its justice. His fingers wrapped themselves upon the metal fork that Erik had provided for him but it only hovered above his platter, leaving the food untouched. His mind buzzed with so many questions. He had resisted an urge let an exasperated sigh. He bit his cheek as he tried to process the many thoughts in his mind. "Doesn't suit your taste?" Erik's question caught him off guard and he quickly and not to mention wildly shook his head. He didn't mean to offend Erik just that his mind was gushing with thoughts and it only made inner turmoil.

After dinner had been kept, Erik excused himself and proceeded to calm himself by passing time with the piano. Leroy settled on going out of the house but only staying at the banks. Erik had watched the boy before he proceeded to the room where the piano lay untouched from his pursuers. It had been a good three days ever since he heard Leroy's siren sing and he admitted to himself that he had loved the voice itself. But he didn't want anything than the assuring sound of his music and he settled himself with the scores of Il Muto.

Leroy took old of small rocks and let them skip over the lake's surface. He was not bored but rather he wanted a break from all the thoughts that surrounded his mind. Inside the house, he could not concentrate and he found the cold and moist air of the lake rather comforting. His mind replayed his stay in Erik's torture chamber and it had scared him. He kept on telling himself that he had accepted death a long time ago but when it faced him straight in the eye, he cowardly clung to life wanting to be spared from the suffering. He balled his hands into fist, frustrated of himself that he had done such a thing. He sat himself upon the earth, comforted by the reassuring coolness of the soil.

Erik had lent him his old clothes which were quite loose to his body. He took a few strands of his hair; they hung down his back in a straight stream. It framed his face making him more effeminate than before. He hid his face in his palms and sighed. What kind of life has he been leading? First he was just a normal boy and now he was in this dungeon where he lived with an older man. He liked the privacy but he was quite perturbed by the idea of living with a man, an older man. Not that they were at war with each other but the thought sent shivers down his spine. He looked at the door that led into the house. Music poured out from the small cracks, it muted but the melody was still beautiful and he couldn't help but diving into the cradle of the notes.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Erik stopped in weaving the notes into a beautiful melody. His thoughts swarmed about Leroy. The boy seemed to conquer his mind for the passed few days. He was beautiful boy, yes, he had admitted that but he would never fall in love for a man. He would never be homosexual. He rather be killed or be deranged than to befall upon a man, specifically a young boy. He ran his hand through his hair, soothing himself. He looked around the room, it was empty. He listened outside but there weren't any footsteps. He relaxed visibly and his hand hovered over his mask and removing it thereafter. The air was cool to his scarred flesh. He breathed in deeply, trying to filter the annoying thoughts that swarmed in his head. Leroy was young boy, suspected to be seventeen and that he had a resemblance to the Vicomte de Chagny who had married his Christine not so long ago. With this thought, he unconsciously balled his hands to fists but he relaxed from the tension as the voice of Leroy's siren fell unto his ears.

The siren's voice was beautiful but not as perfect as Christine's but he knew that if he was asked, he could make the voice soar higher. Yes, even more higher than the wings of Christine's songs have reached. He listened to the voice and a melody came into his mind, he perched his fingers upon the ivory keys of the ebony piano he owned. As if they had their own minds, his fingers danced upon the keys, weaving a melody that pleased the siren's beautiful feminine voice. He couldn't help but smile. It elevated him from all the pain he has always felt. The voice somehow reassured him that he was never alone; that there was bound to be someone worth to be he second half.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Leroy smiled happily as he heard the siren's sweet voice again. He had lain himself upon the dirt floor but it didn't bother him. His hair was brought to his chest to avoid getting it dirty. He loved the siren's voice, sweet, sincere and sorrowful. He smiled all s adjectives. He had never seen the siren true to the fact. He had never dared to look over the water, not even trying to see his own reflection. Truth to be told, Leroy had not seen his own reflection for a good year and a half now and he only knew that his hair grew longer. It already reached the middle of his back and that he has grown a bit taller but still quite short for a boy of seventeen. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. His eyes roved around the misty waters of the lake. He shut his eyes and listened intently to the siren's song.

_Child trapped in darkness,_

_Hear this whisper of sadness,_

_Such secrets you hide,_

_The past you cannot leave behind._

_In fear for love, you run away,_

_In search of refuge, you chose here to stay,_

_Your eyes they burn with unshed tears,_

_Your cries, nobody hears_

Leroy hugged his knees to his chest. How can the siren always know what he felt and what song to sing? He drew himself nearer unto the water. His fingers skimping over the cool liquid; he took a handful and bathed his face in the coolness of it. The cold water felt so good to his warm skin. It relaxed knotted muscles which he never knew. He eased the tension of his thoughts and succumbed into the coolness of his surroundings. He grinned to no one in particular and it lightened the dark mood. He lifted his gaze to the rather cave-like ceiling of the area. Leroy felt contented and he stood up brushing himself a bit before he turned but upon his turn, his eyes met with golden ones. He gasp from surprise and lost his footing. Quickly Erik's hand shot towards his wrist but the soil beneath his shoes were damp and he went tumbling down with Leroy. They dropped unto the shallow portion of the lake. Leroy blinked before a heated and very distinguishable heavy flush tinted his cheeks.

Erik blinked his eyes before he focused them down to the youth that was under him. The water slightly submerged Leroy's head and his strands of hair floated along his face, making him look like an ethereal goddess since he had such feminine traits. He soon noticed where his right hand lay. Upon the boy's chest but he seemed confuse and he looked back at the boy's face, fear-widened eyes. The hand that lay upon his chest drew the boy's damp collar. He gritted his teeth, his eyes raging with anger. He drew the boy's face towards his. "Tell me **boy**. Who truly are you?" Leroy could only gulp as hot tears ran down his face.

For Erik's hand had laid upon the _boy_'s breast and at once he knew the secret he had been trying to figure out for the past few days.

**A/N: So here's chapter 8. :D I hope you're glad! I've been typing since morning and my head hurts already so I'll be sure to update soon.**

What will happen to Leroy now that Erik knows of his secret? Will he still trust him?

And what is Leroy's true identity?  



	10. Woven Melody

**Façade**

Chapter 10: Woven Melody

--

Erik's hands drew the youth towards him, pressing the small frame to his large stature. He towered over the crying child. He took the boy's wrists into his right hand as his left hand shot to the boy's chin. Tears streamed down from his blue eyes, following the path of Erik's fingers. He tightened his grasp on the _boy_'s wrists while his other hand lowered to Leroy's collar. He wrenched the collar apart and Leroy took a step back in fear. He struggled in Erik's grasp while facing away, trying to hide his shame.

Erik could hardly believe his eyes; he could not even take them away. There, a thick strip of cloth secured themselves over the youth's chest; below it was a flat stomach and a ridiculously small waist. Leroy struggled even more, panic swelling within him. Erik drew his eyes up to the child's face, tears leaking from closed eyes. Despite his imminent rage, he could feel pity at the back of his mind. Question rumbled his thoughts. He gritted his teeth and encaged the child within his arms. Immediately Leroy's wide eyes went up to Erik's face. Erik held the youth's gaze. His gaze did not lie to him.

Anger seethe into his nerves and he wrapped his hands around Leroy's small neck, the youth grasps of Erik's wrists trying to prevent them from tightening their hold but it was futile for the older man was far more stronger. Leroy's air supply was slowly being taken away from him and he tried to kick Erik but the former Phantom of the Opera merely ignored the childish attempts of freedom. Leroy's eyes were heavy now and his face not the same rosy color that it always held. Erik loosened his grip a bit and his eyes locked with Leroy's, "Who really are you?"

Leroy gritted his teeth and avoided eye contact with Erik and this only fueled Erik's anger. Erik gripped more tightly than before and Leroy choked visibly. The younger person tried kicking Erik's shins for release but Erik's will was bent in making Leroy answer. "You must have a voice, if you wish to live then answer me." His voice had malice dripping upon every word and Leroy gave up. Leroy's arms fell to his sides and Erik lessened his death grip on Leroy's neck.

"D-D…" Leroy's voice was almost inaudible, his lungs struggling for air. Erik cocked an elegant brow and little by little loosened his grip to let air enter the boy's lungs. "D-Da…" Erik openly gritted his teeth and the youth took this as a warning. "Da-Danielle…" the voice was soft and almost unheard but within the silent embrace of the underground, it was loud enough for Erik's ears, "I didn't quite catch your family name, my dear." He said in a mocking tone. Danielle look down upon his hands, eyes downcast and unfocused, "Danielle de Chagny, monsieur." And that was the last bit of straw for Erik before his grasp tightened shutting Danielle's air supply. She struggled, even kicked his shins but it was unheard of and finally she slumped within his grasp. Erik let out a sigh; he had to calm himself for a while. He loosened his grasp upon the child's neck and he fell forward. His arms cradling the small frame of the girl; he eyed her neck. Clearly enough there were bruises made by his hands but she was not dead. No, he didn't kill her. She only passed out when his fingers found the pulse and he knew that he could have his share of revenge but for now, he let the trivial idea of a girl in his home amuse him yet again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Darkness. It was all over and she knew that her secret was a secret no more. She was afraid of this event. She didn't want this to happen but it was inevitable for every secret was bound to be uncovered. She slowly lifted her heavy eyelids. Her throat was parched and she felt immense pain along her neck. Her lungs felt like it burned. Her limbs felt like lead, so heavy to even be brought up. She looked around the place; she was in the room where Erik had allotted to her ever since Erik's rescue. Her hand shot to her neck and winced as her fingers skimmed over the bruises that Erik had made upon her skin. Her hands gripped the blankets that were laid on top of her body. Except the bruises upon her neck and the slightly torn cotton shirt that Erik had lent her, she was fine. She threw the covers off her body and planted her feet upon the wooden floor. As she tried to stand, her body suddenly swayed to the side making her sit down on the bed. Her hand reached to her temple and tried to soothe it by massaging. She looked around the room once again, only a few candles aiding her vision in this seemingly dim abyss.

She clasped her hands together, her body leaning forward. _Yesterday._ The thought of yesterday made her stomach churn and she couldn't stop herself from replaying everything that had happened. Erik had trusted her but she had ruined the carefully earned trust with him founding out her secret. She wrapped her arms over her protruding chest, trying to hide the fact of her true gender. Yes, she had hidden being a female for the past year and a half to the world. She had left her family, scourging anything that hid her trail from them. As much as she missed them, she felt an unspoken hatred against them. For it was their doing as to why she had suffered as a child and only sought freedom from the harsh bonds of her blood relations.

Her mind seemed to work properly now and she tested her feet once again. They weren't as wobbly as before but they managed to bring her to the door. Her hand reached for the door knob but it stopped in midair. An apology was in order but the fear the clung to her could not be hidden. She wanted nothing more than to dissolve into thin air and be erased from everybody's memories, most specially Erik's. The thought made her gasp. Why Erik? Why not Mme. Joffrey who took her into her home? Or Gregory who helped her get to a clinic when she was tremendously ill? Or Gepetto who amused her with his old puppetry? Why him and not them? Her mind buzzed with numerous questions wanting to summon a headache. Despite all the questions her inquisitive mind wove, she knew one thing why he conquered her thoughts. Despite the gentleness of Erik's actions in the past few days, his eyes could not hide the emotions he has felt. She had never seen so much sorrow in someone's eyes that she would do nothing more than to soothe him from his pains. She shook her head and it helped in clearing her thoughts.

Her hand grippes the knob, she shivered as the coolness of the knob cascaded with her skin. She had nearly forgotten how cold it was down here. Her hand twisted the metal piece and pulled it towards her. The door made a soft creaking noise as it was swung towards the room. Danielle stuck her head out and looked around. It was empty of any sign of life. She drew her whole body out of the room and closed the door behind her, as silent as she could. She never had the chance to see Erik's home in an order but now it was and her blue eyes could not help but wander in the vast house. There were already leather sofas perched at one side of the wall with a small Birch bookcase standing beside them. Even though it was her first time seeing them, they were already filled with numerous books and she couldn't help but run her fingers along the rugged texture of the covers. Her mind immediately shifted to the leather-bound book she had came upon a few days ago and she quickly withdrew her hand to her side. She knew that it would enflame Erik if he ever found out.

_Speaking of Erik I haven't seen him._ She thought, not trusting her voice anymore. Her footsteps padded softly upon the floor since she was bare-footed. Her eyes roamed every corner and space that lay open for her gaze but there was no man that came to her eyes. Then as soon as she was about to return to her room, music floated into the air. It replaced the heavy silence, woven notes of a certain score. Her eyes faced the room where the music originated. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to peek into the room. She took no second chances and her blue eye stood out from the brown Oak door that held the way to where the music was woven. Intricate scores were made as Erik's fingers danced upon the ivory and ebony keys of his piano. It entranced Danielle as much as the music brought her fear. The melody sent shivers up and down her spine; it struck fear into her and delighted her at the same time. It was a weird sensation but it bathed her as she listened to Erik's composition.

He knew, it was quite intentional as to why he let the door be slightly ajar. He intended to lure her to him. He wanted to look at her as he wove his music. Each note carefully selected amongst the many to partake in his musical score. His emotions pouring as his fingers tipped the ivory and ebony keys of his musical instrument. He felt delighted seeing his power to entrance never wavered despite the time he had sought for refuge from Christine's absence and it had left him slightly less of what he was before. He heard the door behind him creek, indicating that the girl had opened it wider.

He pretended not to hear the sound and continue to play but this time he made his music more demanding and it poured more of his emotions. It held his anger, his pain, his yearning for acceptance and for once, he could almost hear his own fear. Fear. It felt so foreign to him but his fingers did not stop in their movements. Little as the emotion was, it was there at the back of his mind. No, not fear for the end of his life but fear that this woman behind him would reject him as Christine had rejected him.

To add to it, this young girl was a de Chagny herself, a blood relative of the man who took his precious angel away from him. He shook his thoughts and his fingers froze from the music. He decided now was the right time to turn around. He did so, his abdomen twisting to his right and his gaze held a beautiful young girl who was only a foot away from him and he knew that from that moment alone, he could not take his eyes off her.

**A/N: Hullow once again dear readers. :D**

So here's another chapter to my POTO story. Sorry for the wait since I wasn't feeling so well but anyways, chapter 11 is on the way.

Thank you very much for reading. :D


	11. Revenge

**Façade**

Chapter 11: Revenge

Erik's face showed a smirk that had held Danielle's blue gaze since she entered the confines of the room. The beautiful music that had beckoned her to enter had ceased in its wake and she felt the heavy and barren silence take its place within the area. Her eyes affixed themselves upon his face, never forgetting the white porcelain mask that lay upon his face. Foreign and yet it seemed to hold an air of authority over the hidden flesh beneath its surface.

Danielle pulled herself as she felt the older man's gaze intensified and she felt herself grow uneasy under the unwanted scrutiny. She laced her fingers together while she cast her eyes downwards. This broke Erik's gaze and inwardly, he felt his anger rise but the innocent figure before him seemed to soothe his anger a little bit. For what reason, he did not know why. He took a few deep breaths to calm him and he beckoned the young girl towards him with his gestured palm.

Danielle was hesitant and strode towards him, not wanting to fuel his anger. Her lips quivered as her hands felt clammy. Tense was such an understatement as her small hand gripped his large ones and they clasped together. She was confused at Erik's gentle treatment. She had expected a thrashing from him for she had hid her true identity him. To anyone it was worth to be hanged in the gallows but this man, made her mind spin with confusion at his gentle treatment of her. Like she was the most fragile porcelain doll that he had bought. Bought seemed so wrong to her thoughts.

Erik held the small hands of the female de Chagny. The family name brought him to the previous fury but he leashed his anger for he had future plans for the girl. He led her to the extra space of his piano bench. He ceased himself from chuckling at the ever present look of confusion that was unhidden upon the girl's face. He had watched her since he knew of her true gender. The rhythmic rising of her chest upon her sleep, the ever graceful sway of her hips that he ignored back then and the luscious full lips that are untouched by any man's kisses. The thought of other men having here brought him to rage and he was brought out of his trance by Danielle's outcry of pain. He had squeezed her hand hard because of his anger. His eyes lashed at her face and immediately she ceased her whimpering. Silence hung heavy in the moist air and there were no words to be exchanged. Tears threatened to fall down her cheeks but she held them with all effort. Her eyes shied down from his gaze and he was amused by her feeble show of defiance. How intriguing this girl was and somehow she reminded him of the innocent Christine whom he had taken under his ebony wings years ago.

And from that night, Erik carefully planned his revenge towards the Vicomte, his intentions hidden in the notes that danced in the air as he continued the melody of his emotions.

**A/N: Hullow once again dear readers. :D**

**So here's another chapter to my POTO story. Sorry for the wait since I wasn't feeling so well but anyways, chapter 12 is on the way.**

Also I'm busy with college so I haven't updated sooner.

**Thank you very much for reading. :D**


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